


Snow in Birritanti

by Photosynthetic_People



Series: Swords and Starlight [6]
Category: Sorcery (Video Game), Steve Jackson's Sorcery! - Steve Jackson
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV Second Person, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Photosynthetic_People/pseuds/Photosynthetic_People
Summary: The pov of you as Flanker getting into a snow fight with the Analander.
Relationships: Analander/Flanker, F!Analander/Flanker
Series: Swords and Starlight [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798918
Kudos: 9





	Snow in Birritanti

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays~

Winter is a season of quiet for you, your normal assassin's garb is rendered useless once it snows and getting blood out of white cloth takes a year or more, you will only take jobs if given to you during this time of year.

You check for coded messages in town at the rookery in Birritanti dressed in layman's layered winter clothes to not arouse suspicion.

The Analander comes with you dressed in a thick wool and sheepskin coat and gloves. Her garb sets her apart from many of the ill equipped people living in the hills though at least they cover her many magical trinkets that make her a target for pickpockets. She parted ways with you intent on going to the herbalist leaving you to walk the snowy-mud pathway to the rookery alone.

You find there is one message waiting for you. The job will require you to kill a merchant's family and frame him for it. You shred the message and then toss it to the wind outside.

Though winter assassinations are quite challenging, it is good to know that despite your failure you still have value in the eyes of the guildmasters. You think as you take a deep breath of the winter air.

The next thing you know you are pelted with a ball of snow right in the chest, frozen compacted snow slipping down your multiple layers until the chill reaches under your shirt.

You hear a soft titter of familiar laughter. Then you feel the impact of another ball of snow.

“What do you think you are doing?!” You ask irately.

She answers you with another snowy projectile. “Stop that!” You demand.

“Make me!” She taunts, a devious grin on her lips. Very well two can play at these childish games.

“As you wish.” You bow down to her, then a moment later you tackle her. She yelps in surprise, eyes wide as she falls into a nearby snowbank. She squirms uselessly, cursing under you. You push her further into the snow, to ensure that she is sufficiently covered in snow you push some snow in her face and her hood.

“You are an absolute savage!” She laughs. “You are supposed to throw snowballs back.”

“You said “make me” you never specified how I should stop you.” You tell her grinning like a fool.

She gathers up snow in her hands and you catch them before she can toss it at you. She moves forward and cold lips meet your own.

She pulls away, leaving you frozen in place, she kissed you. She kissed you where other people could see....

Your mind races.

Did she intend this to be a bold move to show her claim over you?

What if other people saw?

What if someone knows who you both are-

“Psychi Mou, are you okay?” She asks softly, her snowy gloved hand touching your cheek.

Psychi Mou… you try to translate from analandish mou means my but you are unsure of what Psychi means.

“Psychi?” You ask trying to mimic her pronunciation standing up and helping her out of the snow.

“Psychi Mou, my soul, my heart.” She translates and you feel your cheeks burn.

“You should not say such things in public.” You mutter embarrassedly.

“Analandish is hardly common outside of the walls, besides calling you a pet name is safer than calling you by your name.” She says brushing the snow off of herself.

She begins to walk east beckoning you to follow. “We should go to the inn, have dinner and dry off before we head back home, we will freeze otherwise.”

You follow her to the inn the sound of snow crunching underfoot as you turn onto an almost untrodden path.

My soul she called you, it is a title you can live with you decide, you have been called worse things.


End file.
